


An Ordinary Man

by ifishouldvanish



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Coming Out, Gen, Rumple is gay, platonic rumbelle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-15
Updated: 2017-01-15
Packaged: 2018-09-17 17:39:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9335468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ifishouldvanish/pseuds/ifishouldvanish
Summary: If anyone was ever going to truly know Rumplestiltskin, it may as well be his maid.@thatravenclawbitch received an anon looking for a fic in which Rumple is gay, and that focuses on him coming to terms with his sexuality rather than any M/M ship in particular. So… I decided to take a stab at it.This is a re-imagining of a Dark Castle scene from Skin Deep, but with Rumbelle as a platonic friendship.





	

“Why did you want me here?” She asks, sitting beside him and smoothing out her skirts.

Rumplestiltskin inhales sharply. His maid has been getting so close to him ever since he saved her from that perilous fall from the ladder. The look she gave him that day was one Rumplestiltskin understood, and it mortified him. He likes Belle. He enjoys her company. She’s a pretty young thing. Her nearness comforts him.

But it also distresses him. Makes that centuries-old feeling of inadequacy rear its ugly head. She wants more. Expects more. More than he could ever provide. Not to her, nor any woman for that matter.

“The place was filthy.” He says through pursed lips.

He hates the look she gives him, but it’s easier to have his maid roll her eyes at him than to even _imagine_ the pity or the disgust that would be written all over her pretty face were he to tell her the truth. That he was just unbearably lonely, after years building up walls and pushing people away.

“I think you were lonely.” She says. “I mean, any man would be lonely.” Her tone is so sympathetic and warm and understanding. But how _could_ she understand, really?

“I’m not a man.”

She pouts at him and he wishes he could hide. With the flourish of a hand, he supposes he could. But instead he continues to wring his hands anxiously in his lap, because in this moment, the part of him that yearns to be understood is winning out.

“So, I’ve had, uh, a couple of months to look around, you know.” She speaks quietly, as if he is a scared little animal she desperately hopes won’t scurry away. “And, uh… Upstairs there’s, uh, clothing. Small, as if for a... a child?”

His maid is such a curious thing. And he always appreciates the cautious and polite way she broaches subjects with him. He knows what she’s about to ask him.

“Was it yours, or… Or was there a son?”

Rumplestiltskin takes a deep breath. “There was. There was a son. I lost him – as I did his mother.”

It feels good to speak the truth. But there’s a greater truth that weighs heavily on his shoulders. One that predates losing Baelfire. Predates losing Milah. Predates the damage he did to his ankle, the horrors he witnessed during the Ogre’s Wars, his marriage. The one he’s kept so well hidden for so unbearably long. One that begs to be known, if only he’d let it.

Belle frowns. “I’m… I’m sorry. So you… You were a man, once. An ordinary man?”

He doesn’t answer, because he’s never felt like one.

She smiles at him weakly, a playful shade of exasperation on her face. “If I’m never going to know another person in my whole life, can’t I at least know you?”

Gods, he would love nothing more than for someone to truly _know_ him. He’s burned so many bridges in a misguided attempt to hide his shame from the world. Belle is the closest thing to a friend he’s ever had. But how could he let her know his truth? Everyone always leaves, but at least if he pushes them away, he can blame the darkness. If he told her the truth and she left, it would just confirm his fears: That he is, in fact, unlovable. A disappointment. A freak. A coward. Not a real man.

No. The truth must remain his own to bear. He musters a smile and flourishes his hand. Gets back into character and plays his part.

“Perhaps… Perhaps you just want to learn the monster’s weaknesses!”

But Belle sees through his performance. She always has. She narrows her eyes at him and smiles. “You’re not a monster.” She tells him, a certainly in her voice which he’s never possessed himself.

For a moment, he can almost believe it. _I’m not a monster._

“You think you’re uglier than you are. That’s why you cover all the mirrors up, isn’t it? Hm?” She scoots closer to him and studies his face, scrutinizing him. Part of him wants her to find what she’s looking for, because he’s so tired. Tired of not having anyone he truly be himself around. Not having anyone who knows the truth and just _accepts_ him.

He catches a gleam in Belle's eyes and she leans in, wetting her lips. She presses them to his cheek and he feels a strange sensation take hold of his body.

_No, no, no._

He draws back quickly, turning away from her. “Belle, I—” His voice sounds so small and he cuts himself off. “What are you doing?”

“I—” Her cheeks flush pink and she looks away. “I was um, reading.” She says, nervously fisting at her skirts.

He raises a brow at her. His maid— Too curious for her own good.

“It said true love’s kiss could break any curse.”

He looks at her with his features twisted in mortification. “And you think _this_ is true love?”

“You’re my _friend,_ Rumplestiltskin!” She says, reeling back in offense. “Of course I love you!”

“Well, it wouldn't have worked.” He scoffs.

“And why not?”

“Because I could never love you in such a way!”

He can feel the pounding of his heart in his throat. His mouth is bone dry and he wants to hide again. But he's forgotten magic. All he can think about is how close he just came to shedding that layer of armor, and he's shaking. He waits for Belle to protest, to do something, to leave. But instead there's only silence and the pounding of his pulse in his ears.

She reaches for his hand, but doesn't fight it when he pushes it away. “Rumple— Rumplestiltskin, what do you mean?”

“You couldn't understand.”

“You don't know that.” She says firmly, her chin resolute. “Not unless you at least let me try.” She adds with a nod.

It's a valid point. But he's found a sort of comfort in his loneliness. It's familiar. Safe. Telling his truth to Belle would be a gamble. Even if she doesn't laugh in his face, would their little chats stop? Would she stop laughing at his jokes? Stop smiling at him when she serves him his tea? Stop seeing the good in him of which she so often speaks?

He supposes he could bear that loss. It would only take him back where he started. But gods, imagine if she truly _did_ understand! The thought makes the fearful, nervous energy in his body feel more like excitement and hope.

“I… have no desire to be with a woman.” He says, the words bursting out of his mouth in a jumble. His pulse is so much heavier now, he feels like he might burst.

Silence again. He pulls his eyes away from his lap to sneak a glance at her face. Her bottom lip is tucked under her teeth and her brows are furrowed together. His maid is thinking.

She smacks her lips. “Is that all?”

He looks at her and blinks. Did she not hear him correctly?

Belle smiles at him and Rumplestiltskin feels the pounding in his chest beginning to fade. “What—what do you mean, is that all?”

She wrinkles her nose at him like she always does when she thinks he's being dramatic. “You're my closest friend, Rumple. My only friend. I-I want to understand.”

“Belle, I— I…” He doesn't pull away when she reaches for his hand this time. He clutches onto it instinctively, drawing her strength, her courage. “I find myself… drawn to— to other- to other men.”

She nibbles her lip, thinking again. “Is it… because of—” She gestures at him, his reptilian skin, his yellowed eyes, and claw-like hands.

“No.” He answers quickly, his head shaking on its own as the weight of the truth pours out of him.

Some of the prostitutes in his village had been men. Even if he could have afforded their services, he wouldn't have dared. He'd faced enough ridicule without having to take a male lover. Coward. Worthless. Baedling. It was one shame he couldn't subject his family to.

“But—” She knits her brows together and tilts her head. “Your son?”

“I love my son.” He says without hesitation. "He was the best thing that ever happened to me. But I… I did not love his mother— not as a husband should. I did not enjoy conceiving him.”

Belle studies him for a moment, and she looks so sad for him. But she shakes it away and shrugs. “I see.” She says firmly, giving his hand a squeeze.

He swallows hard and can feel the tension leaving every muscle in his body.

“The-the book I found…” She mumbles, “It said true love doesn't have to be between a man and a woman. Sometimes it can happen between two men, or two women. Or-or not even lovers at all. But between parent and child, or siblings, or even—”

“...Friends?”

Her blue eyes light up and she smiles. “Friends.”

Rumplestiltskin may not have ever known the companionship of a man, but he imagines he would enjoy the company of one much like his Belle. Kind, forgiving, compassionate, and full of understanding.

She wraps her arms around him, pulling him close, and tears form in Rumplestiltskin's eyes. He feels so light and warm and weightless and free.

“I'm so honored you could tell me that, Rumple.” She mumbles into his shoulder. He chokes out a sob and nods, because he's glad he told her too. “It was wonderfully brave of you.”

 _Brave._ Who would have ever thought Rumplestiltskin could be brave?


End file.
